


Professional Reasons (Mustang Remix)

by NothingSoDivine



Series: Strictly Professional [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Roy Mustang, Casual Sex, Dominant Riza Hawkeye, F/M, I will never give up on wuzzles, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Pining, Pegging, Remix, Roy is a slut and I love it, Sex Toys, Sex for Professional Reasons, Strap-Ons, Submissive Roy Mustang, WUZZLES!, implied bisexuality, implied previous relationships, love that combination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSoDivine/pseuds/NothingSoDivine
Summary: “You offered to fuck me in the ass for entirely professional reasons.”“Yes, sir.”Roy’s perspective on the time Lieutenant Hawkeye propositioned him.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: Strictly Professional [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980829
Comments: 17
Kudos: 74





	Professional Reasons (Mustang Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Professional Reasons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137215) by [NothingSoDivine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSoDivine/pseuds/NothingSoDivine). 



> I call this the Roymix because it’s remixed to be from Roy’s perspective

Roy Mustang didn’t intend for anyone to hear him when he muttered, “God, I really need to get fucked.”

Half a step behind him, Lieutenant Hawkeye spoke up. “I beg your pardon, sir?” she asked, with enough concern to make it clear that she’d heard him perfectly, and Roy went bright red.

“Nothing, Lieutenant. Forget I said anything.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and he hoped desperately that she would.

* * *

He did his best to put it out of his mind, but whenever he had a moment to think, he’d remember the alarming feeling that she’d understood exactly what he’d meant. God, had she? Roy wasn’t sure which was better — the idea of Hawkeye knowing he wanted cock, or the idea that she didn’t understand him well enough to correctly parse what he’d said. He didn’t quite let himself get distracted by it, but it haunted him all day.

* * *

They ate dinner together, like always, but there were no messages to pass, and they sat in silence. They were almost finished, and Roy had begun to think that Hawkeye had followed his orders and forgotten about it like he told her to, when she said, “Did you mean it?”

Roy wasn’t sure what she meant. They hadn’t been talking about anything. “Mean what?”

“You said earlier that you needed something,” Hawkeye continued, and Roy’s face did something horribly embarrassing. Oh no. “Did you mean it?”

Roy raised his coffee cup to hide behind. “I thought I told you to forget—”

“Because I could do that,” she interrupted.

He couldn’t possibly have heard right. “What.”

Hawkeye took a sip of coffee. She looked far too nonchalant for the topic at hand. “I, er. I have the... equipment. To make that happen. Sir.” She sipped her coffee again. Roy felt a little faint. She’d understood him. She was _offering_. She had to know what she was saying, right? He felt himself grow warm all over at the thought. She said she had equipment, did that mean...?

He had to be sure. “Are you propositioning me, Lieutenant?”

Hawkeye wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Did you want to be propositioned?” she countered into her mug.

Oh, god. This was really happening. Roy finished his coffee to give himself time to compose a response. His mind was racing. “Meet me in my office at 2100 hours,” he said finally, standing. Hawkeye still wouldn’t look at him.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Lieutenant?” Roy added sharply, and Hawkeye snapped to attention. “I’m not agreeing to anything yet.”

“Yes, sir,” she said again, and Roy did his best not to think about those words coming out of that mouth in any other context.

* * *

At 8:56, Roy sat in his office stewing. Hawkeye would be by in four minutes, and he had no idea what he was going to say to her. He had to turn her down, obviously; it could only be more trouble than it was worth to start something like that with one of his Lieutenants, and the thought of losing Hawkeye forever because he let his feelings get the better of his sense made him feel physically ill. He couldn’t possibly let her do what she was offering. He would turn her down, and they’d move on, and they would both pretend it never happened, and Roy’s feelings would stay firmly squashed down into the one small corner of his mind where he kept the rest of his shameful impulses.

There was a knock on the door. Roy glanced at the clock; 8:57. That had to be Hawkeye.

“Come in,” he said, heart in his throat, and she did, shutting the door behind her.

“Colonel Mustang, sir,” she said. She looked calm as ever, but Roy could tell she was nervous. “You wanted to see me.”

Roy peered at her, releasing the lip he’d been nervously chewing behind his interlocked fingers. “I rather believe _you_ wanted to see _me_ , Lieutenant,” he said. He was stalling. This was ridiculous. He was Roy goddamn Mustang, notorious ladies’ man, and he was panicking because the one woman he cared about most in the entire world had offered to sleep with him.

Hawkeye licked her lips. Fuck, Roy wanted that tongue all over his everything, all the time, starting immediately. “I suppose you could say that, sir.”

“Were you serious?”

She held his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

Roy took a deep breath. _Oh, fuck._ He really needed to turn her down, but he was scrabbling desperately for a gentle way to do it. He exhaled shakily. “I see.”

Hawkeye waited. God, how to even start. Hurting her was unthinkable; having to turn her down was somehow even worse. She was still looking at him with those deep brown eyes, deep enough to carry all his secrets for him and never let a single one slip. He trusted her so much it hurt. He couldn’t jeopardize that for anything.

He rose to his feet and stepped around his desk. He couldn’t bear meeting her eyes like that a moment longer. “I have some... concerns,” he said. There. Good. That was good. He’d let her down carefully, with logic and sense. She was sensible; she’d understand. He had to trust that.

“Of course, sir,” she said.

That was exactly the problem. “I am your commanding officer,” Roy reminded her, crossing the room to stare blankly at the contents of his book cabinet. “I am your superior. We are not equals.” _I cannot ask this of you. It would be an abuse of my power._

“I am aware, sir.”

Of course she was. He steadied himself on the cabinet and continued.

“I can’t afford to lose my best man — so to speak — because we tried to make it personal,” he said, as gently as he could. He wanted to cry. God, it was the worst kind of torture to be this close to something he knew he couldn’t have. He needed her to leave. He needed to go home and get drunk and cry over her somewhere nobody would ever see it, and then he needed to forget it had ever happened.

“I didn’t offer to make it personal,” she said, cleared her throat. “Sir.”

Roy’s head spun. Emotions flooded through him, too fast for him to identify, and he grabbed for one at random, landing on skepticism. He turned to Hawkeye, who looked faintly startled. “You offered to fuck me in the ass for entirely professional reasons,” he croaked, and Hawkeye’s expression turned briefly hungry. Oh god. Could he — could they actually—

“Yes, sir.” She was blushing, but held his gaze.

Roy felt suddenly lightheaded. “I see,” he said, trying to stifle a smile. When that started to fail, he turned back to his books, and the grin that snuck out of him felt like it was going to split his face in two. He quickly forced it down; she may not have seen it, but she’d be able to hear it when he spoke. Fuck, maybe they could actually do this. He shoved that flare of hope in his chest down as hard as he could. They weren’t doing anything just yet.

“You said you had equipment,” he said, and heard Hawkeye let out a heavy breath.

“I did, sir — I do,” she said, and Roy’s heart did some horrible fluttery hopeful thing in his chest. Oh, god. He needed to be sure.

“What... kind of equipment?” he asked tentatively.

There was a long pause. “How do you mean, sir?”

He wasn’t sure how to phrase it as a genuine query, so he settled for making it a joke. “I won’t have you putting gun oil on my unmentionables,” he said, glancing over at her. She’d gone very pink, and Roy thought it might have been the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Then she snorted, and okay, no, _that_ was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “I have all the _proper_ equipment, sir,” she said, with just a hint of scorn, and oh.

“Have you, now,” he said, looking at her a little more fully, and she flushed a deeper shade of pink.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and okay, so she had a dildo. That was no big deal, right? A lot of people had things like that for their own use. Roy’s mind called up an image of Lieutenant Hawkeye naked and fucking herself with some thick, hard toy, and he abruptly turned back towards the cabinet as he felt his own cock take an avid interest. _Calm down,_ he reminded himself firmly, but then he remembered Hawkeye saying _all the_ _proper_ _equipment_ and the image got exponentially filthier. He imagined her pressing that same toy into her ass, and the way the blood rushed to his cock at that made him dizzy. God, she couldn’t possibly have done that, could she? No, she was too proper for it, surely; she’d just heard about it through rumours, and had personal lubricant for more innocent reasons. Roy knew women who kept the stuff on hand just to help themselves along, like a lot of the men he knew who weren’t interested in other men. But no — the confidence with which she’d said _the_ _proper_ _equipment_ made him doubt that. Somehow, unbelievably, she knew what she was doing, and that meant she’d done it before.

There was no way he was going to turn her down, and he’d known it since she’d confirmed she had what he needed. He blew out a short breath and closed the cabinet. “Very well then. Your place, I presume?”

He heard Hawkeye’s breath catch. “Yes, sir,” she said, and her voice was suddenly unimaginably sexual. Roy turned to her. That hungry look had returned to her face; it made Roy bite down on the inside of his lip and think determinedly about something, anything, _literally please god anything_ else.

“After you,” he said, gesturing to the door and praying his uniform jacket was long enough to cover the front of his trousers. He held the door for her, and she gave him a nod as she passed. He didn’t dare say anything, in case he gave away just how desperately he wanted her.

They strode down the hall, side by side, in heavy silence. Roy felt lightheaded, like if someone nudged him wrong he’d just fall over. He was going to have sex with Lieutenant Hawkeye. She was going to fuck him. He could barely breathe. As they rounded a corner, Roy dared to put a hand on Hawkeye’s back — just the slightest point of contact between his gloved fingertips and her shoulder blade, but it felt like he was holding fire in his bare hand.

When they stepped outside, Roy managed to force his hand down to his pocket to check his watch. “I need to head home,” he said. He needed to shower and change his clothes, at the very least, and he wanted to be prepared for Hawkeye to — he stopped himself before he could think too hard about it and get overwhelmed. “I’ll meet you where we agreed in forty-five minutes,” he said. That should be plenty of time.

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Roy caught her eye. “Drive safe,” he said intently. If she got in a car accident before he got her up his ass, so help him god, he would fucking explode.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and her eyes stole Roy’s breath for a moment until he managed to tear himself away. He only had forty-five minutes. He’d have to be quick.

* * *

Roy drove home like an absolute demon. He took the stairs to his apartment two at a time, and had to force himself not to slam his apartment door behind him. He locked it out of habit, dropped his wallet, watch, and keys on the table by the front door, and then he was tearing off his boots and heading for the bathroom, shedding pieces of his uniform across the floor as he went. He kept a bottle of lube in the shower for — well, not this _exact_ reason, but this _kind_ of reason, and he kept glancing at it as he stepped under the water and soaped himself down while he waited for the spray to warm up. It was freezing cold at first, but that didn’t deter his cock in the slightest; he’d been focusing on driving as much as he could, but as soon as he’d gotten home, he’d let his mind wander back to what he was about to do. What Hawkeye was about to do to him. Fuck.

He rinsed off the soap under the rapidly warming water as quickly as he could, but couldn’t keep himself from wrapping a hand around his cock. He sighed, pressing his other hand flat against the wall. The water beat down on his back as he stroked himself a couple of times, remembering the hungry look Hawkeye had given him. He pictured that look on her face as she leaned over him, and had to remove his hand from his cock and take a couple deep breaths. Fuck, he was wasting time. He reached for the lube.

His finger sank into him easily, and Roy groaned, imagining Hawkeye’s instead. How different would it feel? He’d never paid that much attention to her hands before, and now he wished he had. He knew they were strong and nimble, at least, just from knowing what she did for a living, but were they the same size and shape as his, or different? They’d probably be calloused, but would they be rough, or did she care for them as meticulously as she cared for her guns? He contemplated adding a second finger, but this wasn’t for pleasure, and he wanted to feel Hawkeye’s fingers as much as he could. He might never get another chance at this; he had to make the most of it.

Roy hurried through the rest of his shower, mostly because if he let himself dawdle he’d get distracted and make himself come. When he emerged, he ran a comb through his hair — he hadn’t quite managed to keep it dry, damn — and inspected his face in the mirror. Bless his Xingese heritage, he didn’t need to shave, but he splashed on a bit of aftershave anyway, because he had it on good authority that it made him smell, quote, “fuckable”. Not that Hughes would have said anything less, but Roy was willing to take his word for it, since they couldn’t exactly debate it any more. He contemplated brushing his teeth, but settled for mouthwash instead; he doubted Hawkeye would be willing to kiss him, and frankly he didn’t want to find out, but he would rather be safe than smell bad. He spat the mouthwash out into the sink, ran a hand through his hair, and dashed into his bedroom.

He tossed on socks, an undershirt, and a pair of boxers automatically while he contemplated the contents of his closet. Part of him wanted to dress all the way back up in his uniform, but that would have been a waste of time, and besides, he realized, he didn’t want to accidentally intimidate Hawkeye by showing up in military dress. He settled for a plain white shirt and dark blue trousers, automatically grabbing the matching tie and knotting it at his throat. He grabbed a belt on the way by, sliding it around his hips on his way to the door, then shoved his feet into a pair of brown shoes, grabbed his coat, scarf, and gloves, swiped his wallet, watch, and keys into his pocket, and left in just as much of a hurry as he’d come.

It wasn’t until he was back in his car that he realized he’d essentially dressed for a date. Oh well; he didn’t have the time to change now.

He drove to Hawkeye’s apartment more carefully than he’d driven home, but no less impatiently. When he got there, he parked, then checked his watch. Three minutes; perfect timing. He took the stairs one at a time, as calmly as he could, and when he got to Hawkeye’s apartment, he took a couple of deep breaths. He felt a little bit like someone was playing marbles in his stomach; he shrugged off his coat and folded it over one arm, then slipped off his gloves, ran a hand through his hair, and knocked on the door.

There was a moment’s silence, and then Roy heard soft, rapid footsteps approaching. Then he heard the deadbolt slide back and the door swung open.

There stood Lieutenant Hawkeye, in loose-fitting trousers and what looked like an old uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the top several buttons open to expose the lush curve of her breasts, and in her hand she held—

Roy nearly choked on air. He recognized that tangle of rich brown leather and bright silver buckles. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might have a harness. His mind went a panicky sort of blank, like radio static. She had a harness. She was going to actually, properly fuck him. The static cleared, and in its place rushed in a hundred images of what Hawkeye might have been doing that needed a harness like that. Had she gotten it for use with a previous male lover? Or had she done the same kind of experimenting in her Academy days that Roy had done in his own time there? Roy’s mouth felt suddenly very dry at that idea. He recognized the work, he realized — _God, it matches my cuffs,_ he thought, a little hysterically. She must’ve gotten it while she was at the Academy, from that little shop a couple miles away that took custom orders and asked no questions.

Hawkeye cleared her throat, and Roy tore his eyes away from the harness in her hand, making eye contact with her instead. “Colonel Mustang,” she said, and stepped out of the doorway. She sounded the slightest bit breathy, and Roy’s brain helpfully chimed in with, _She sounds like you just slid your cock into her_.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he replied, looking away as he stepped into her apartment.

She shut the door behind him. “I can take your coat,” she said, and as he handed over it and his gloves, her dog came bounding out of the living room to greet him. He knelt, letting the dog sniff his hands while he untied his shoes. Hawkeye moved past him to hang up his coat, looking comfortable and casual in her lounging clothes, and Roy felt distinctly overdressed.

“You’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” Hawkeye told him as he stood up. “I have some preparations left to do. Please, make yourself comfortable out here.” She swept a hand towards the living room. It looked tidy, but homey; Roy doubted he’d have any trouble getting comfortable in a room that felt so strongly of her. It smelled like her, too, or perhaps she just smelled like it.

“Of course,” he said, and headed in, leaving his shoes by the door. “Take as much time as you need, Lieutenant.” He was in no hurry; if it meant he got the fuck he’d been craving for over a week — meant Hawkeye would fuck him — he could be as patient as she needed.

“Thank you,” she murmured, sweeping past so quietly on her bare feet that Roy was startled by her. She headed towards the open bedroom door, and Roy finally noticed the tightness in her shoulders. She was nervous too, he realized.

“And Lieutenant,” he called before she disappeared, and she looked back at him, eyes too wide and too honest.

It pained him to say it, but he had to. “I can leave at any time,” he told her, and she smiled at him and shut the door.

Roy released a long breath, dropping down onto the couch. The dog came bounding up to him, and he petted it absently. His mind was racing, still looping around the fact that _Lieutenant Hawkeye owned a harness_. He couldn’t dispel the image of her pressed up behind him, her hips against him and her cock buried in him. Every time he tried, it just shifted — first they were standing, then Roy was kneeling on his bed, then he was riding her on the sturdy mahogany desk in his office, then she had him bent over a table in the cafeteria, plowing him where everyone could watch—

He took a shaky breath. _Calm down, Roy,_ he told himself, dragging a hand over his face. _Be reasonable._ But this wasn’t a reasonable situation, he realized. If he’d been reasonable, he’d never have even imagined agreeing to sex with his favourite Lieutenant, let alone gotten as far as sitting on her couch while she bustled around her apartment, preparing... whatever it was she had left to prepare. He busied both hands with petting the dog, almost trying to will his erection away out of habit before he remembered that, no, he was about to have sex. He was allowed to be turned on. He let himself imagine Hawkeye’s fingers landing on the small of his back, then trailing lower, dipping into his trousers and sliding between his cheeks to brush against his hole. God, if this went well, it could very well end up being the best night of his life. _And if it doesn’t..._ his mind chimed in, and Roy focused determinedly on petting the dog. He couldn’t think about losing Lieutenant Hawkeye, or he’d panic and run, and he couldn’t bear to imagine that. He’d gotten this far, and if he turned back now out of cowardice, he’d never be able to face himself.

The bedroom door opened. “Colonel Mustang,” Hawkeye said sharply, and Roy snapped to attention.

She was standing in the bedroom doorway, all severe military posture, arms crossed over her chest. Her face was stern, but Roy’s eyes were stuck on her— his mind stuttered on the thought. Her cock. His mouth watered. Fuck, he wanted that inside him immediately. It was rich brown leather, darkened from use. “Lieutenant,” he replied, and it came out like a prayer. He saw Hawkeye shiver, and his cock throbbed.

“Come here,” she ordered, and he was powerless to disobey her. His eyes drifted up to her face as he approached. God, she was gorgeous. Her eyes were so rich, if he looked at them too long he swore he’d get drunk. Then he looked down at her mouth, and oh dear, no, that was much more dangerous. He licked his lips, wished he could feel Hawkeye’s tongue instead of his own.

She stepped wordlessly aside, a silent invitation, and he entered her bedroom.

The air was cool and fresh in here from the open window, and it was the same kind of tidy as the living room. There was a plain, dark green coverlet on the bed, and a glass of water sat next to the simple lamp on the far bedside table. He shivered, partly from the temperature change, but partly from feeling Hawkeye move behind him as she shut the door, almost close enough to touch. He wanted her to step forward, wanted to feel her breasts against his back and her cock against his ass, wanted so badly for her to wrap her arms around him and hold him.

She stepped away instead, and Roy’s entire body ached like it wanted to follow her. He took a couple of steps after her before he could stop himself, halting at the foot of the bed as Hawkeye turned around. Her eyes pinned him in place. He could barely breathe.

“Shirt, off,” she ordered, and Roy couldn’t obey fast enough. His tie came off in half a second, and he glanced down at the footboard before draping it there. He had to force his fingers to be gentle; he felt like he would tear every button off his shirt if he wasn’t careful. He untucked it from his trousers as he went, then slid it off and tossed it over the footboard as well.

“Trousers,” she continued before his hands had a chance to return to his sides, and he reached for his belt. Hawkeye’s breath caught, and her eyes darted to the side. Roy followed her gaze. The headboard looked very solid, and those vertical bars were very tempting. If he freed his belt, he knew he’d beg her to bind him with it. He opened it, but left it in its loops, where it couldn’t tempt him. When she looked away, so did he, sliding his pants off his hips and stepping out of them. His socks followed, and he placed them over the footboard with everything else, then turned back to Hawkeye. His cock was hard enough that it had left a wet spot on his boxers; the air was very cold against it. His hands were trembling slightly at his sides. He saw Hawkeye swallow, her eyes fixed below Roy’s waist.

“Come here and turn around,” she said, and Roy did. He felt less shaky with her at his back; his skin tingled with anticipation.

“Widen your stance a little,” she continued, and he obliged. His training told him to cross his hands behind his back, but he left them at his sides. He faced the bed, curling and uncurling his fingers next to his thighs and waiting for the next command.

It never came. Wordlessly, Hawkeye stepped up behind him, planted a hand between his shoulder blades, and pushed.

Roy folded like he was made of paper, hands flying up to break his descent. He heard a strangled moan, but it took a second for him to realize it had come from his own mouth. He wasn’t as flexible as he used to be, he noticed; he must have been out of practice, because his hamstrings burned just a little at the stretch. He fought the urge to rise onto the balls of his feet to ease the tension. He didn’t want to seem completely undignified, although there wasn’t much dignity left for him to lose here. Hawkeye’s hand was still pressing his chest against the bedspread, though it was a little shaky, and her hips were pressed up against his ass. Her cock was tucked between his legs; the head nudged up behind his balls. He took a couple even breaths through his nose. He could barely remember ever having been so turned on.

“Was that okay?” Hawkeye asked. She was barely audible, but she sounded terrified.

Roy turned his head to smile over his shoulder at her. “More than okay,” he said, as encouragingly as he could. “I’m good. Are you good?”

“I’m good, as long as you’re good,” she said, a little louder.

“I’m good,” Roy assured her. “Keep going.” He turned his face back into the blanket.

“Yes, sir,” he heard her murmur to herself. Then: “Stay there.”

Roy made a positive noise, and Hawkeye’s hand moved from his back to his boxers. He went still to let her do what she was planning to, but she hesitated, so he nodded into the bed. He was holding his breath, he noticed.

Slowly, Hawkeye bared his ass to the cold air, and Roy breathed shakily into the bed. When his boxers slid off his cock, it sprang up, hitting his stomach. Fuck, he was so hard.

“Sorry,” Hawkeye said.

“S’fine.”

She left his boxers around his thighs and stepped back, leaving Roy ass-up and exposed, and he fisted his hands in the bedspread. The air was cold on his bare skin, and he could feel Hawkeye watching him. A pang of sweet humiliation burned in his throat. He hadn’t been in a position like this in a _long_ time. Then Hawkeye’s hands settled on his hips, and Roy’s skin lit up at her touch. Goosebumps went racing down his legs and up his back to raise the hair on the nape of his neck. Her fingers were cold; it took all of Roy’s willpower not to rock back into her hands, make her touch him more. She did it anyways, kneading at his ass before pulling it apart, exposing his hole to the cold air.

Roy squeaked and buried his face in the blanket. _Fuck._

Hawkeye’s hands disappeared from his ass, and Roy waited tremulously for them to return. He heard the bottle of lube leave the table, the soft wet noises of her lubing her fingers. A shiver ran up his spine. What must he look like? What must she be thinking? Force of deeply ingrained habit made him want to tilt his ass up towards her, arch his back, spread his legs further, but he didn’t dare. She’d never seemed offended by Roy’s rumoured promiscuity before, but that was in the abstract, and besides, he’d been careful to keep the rumours limited to his experience with women. He’d never done _this_ with a woman before; no woman had seen him like Hawkeye was seeing him right now. He resolved to maintain his dignity as much as he possibly could. He couldn’t let Hawkeye get past the professional façade, because that would make it personal, and they’d agreed not to make it personal. He couldn’t let her see Roy; she had to stay on the safe side of things, where she only got Colonel Mustang.

She pulled Roy’s ass apart again and poured lube directly on his hole, and he gasped. _Professional. Fuck, keep it professional._ Then she rubbed her fingertips across it, and Roy squeezed his eyes shut hard. _Fuck._ “May I?” she asked — teased. She was teasing him, physically _and_ verbally. He wanted her so much.

“Please,” he said, barely managing to keep the desperation out of his voice. He wanted so badly to beg. _Professional,_ he reminded himself.

His resolve lasted exactly as long as it took for Hawkeye to get one finger into him. “Oh,” he sighed, eyelids fluttering. God, it felt so much better than his own fingers did. He felt his spine softening, the façade slipping away from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right that moment; he raised his head, rocking back against Hawkeye’s hand and raking a hand through his hair. Then she crooked her finger, and Roy made a startled noise, grabbing at the blanket with both hands.

“Good?” she asked, and he was so much better than good; his whole body was lighting up under her touch.

“ _Yes,_ ” he breathed.

“Good,” she purred, and added another finger.

Roy moaned. God, how had he ever thought he’d be able to stay professional during this? Hawkeye’s other hand settled on his ass, holding him open again, and Roy responded automatically, tilting his hips up towards her. Before he had time to realize what he’d done and get embarrassed, Hawkeye fucked her fingers into him softly, and he moaned again. Fuck, he hoped she didn’t judge him too harshly for this afterwards; then he squeezed around her and she made a noise almost exactly like the one that came from his own mouth.

They both went still at that. Roy could hear Hawkeye’s shaky breathing over his own. Then she cleared her throat, and he felt her hand leave his hip, then heard her take a sip of water. “You good?” she asked, returning her hand.

“Yes,” said Roy. The sensual haze he’d been sliding into had vanished, but that faint flicker of hope was back in its stead, fluttering behind his sternum. That noise she’d made had been gorgeous. He wanted to make her do it again.

Hawkeye said something, but Roy didn’t hear her over the sound he made as she started fucking him again with her fingers; she stopped, and he bit his lip to keep from whining. “Can I, uh. Move on?”

Of course. She’d want to get it over with. Roy’s posture straightened reflexively; he turned his head so he could speak clearly. “If you like,” he said, trying to keep his disappointment from making his voice bite. “I’m enjoying this, but I’m definitely loose enough to take your cock now,” he added, just to be perfectly clear, and she tightened her grip on him.

“You said earlier that I could take as much time as I needed,” she said, voice just a little bit raw.

“I did, and that still sta— _oh_.” Her fingers were perfectly smooth and wet in his ass, and she fucked them into him so easily. His posture loosened again, and entirely without his permission, he felt his spine slip back into that arch. It was impossible to stay professional with those fingers in him, he decided; they melted him like he was chocolate under her tongue. She crooked her fingers again, and Roy gasped.

“I think maybe I want to keep doing this for a bit,” Hawkeye said, and there was no way Roy could refuse that, but then she slid her fingers most of the way out of him and pulled at his rim, stretching him wider, and Roy moaned. “Since you’re enjoying it,” she teased.

“Okay,” Roy managed, and moaned again when she sank her fingers back in. Fuck, she was good with her hands. He’d never be able to watch her dismantle a gun again without getting the most inappropriate hard-on. She fucked him open so easily, and it felt like a matter of seconds before an edge of desperation started creeping into his voice. It felt so good, but fuck, he needed more. Then she stopped moving, and took her free hand off his hip, and Roy whined and instinctively rocked back towards her, trying to fuck himself on her fingers.

She pulled out of him, and Roy gasped, feeling suddenly, horribly empty. “Be patient,” she scolded.

“No,” Roy whined, but she ignored him.

He felt something nudge his ankle. “Can you spread these any wider?” Hawkeye asked, and Roy’s mind cleared. That was an actual question, and needed an actual answer. He tried, but his boxers were too tight around his thighs.

“No,” he said, turning his head again so he could speak into the room and not the bed.

“Okay, close them,” she ordered, taking a step back, and Roy did. His boxers slid to the floor, and he saw Hawkeye crouch to grab them, then stand back up and toss them in the direction of the rest of his clothes. Roy didn’t see where they went, and he didn’t care.

Hawkeye put her hand back on his hip. “Open,” she ordered, voice the perfect amount of commanding, and Roy shuddered and spread his legs, raising his hips and arching his back the way he’d been wanting to all along. Humiliation curled at the base of his spine, and he hoped with all his might that he hadn’t just made a horrible miscalculation. _Please,_ he thought. _Please let her want me like this._

Hawkeye sighed, ran her thumb along the edge of his hole, and relief washed over Roy like a tidal wave. He made some embarrassing noise as his legs fell open a little further at her touch. _Fuck._ He’d been right. He was dizzy and so hard it nearly hurt. He hadn’t felt so alive during sex in years.

Then Hawkeye pressed the head of her cock into him, and Roy’s mind went briefly, blissfully blank. “Oh,” he said, and moaned as she slid deeper, breathed out a “yes.” Fuck, he’d missed feeling his ass stretch around a cock; Hawkeye’s was smooth and firm and thick, but not so thick that she wouldn’t be able to pound him nice and hard. The thought made him tighten around her, and he stayed like that for a minute, savouring the feeling. “Fuck,” he groaned, and relaxed.

The rest of her cock slammed into him, and Roy yelped as his vision went white. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry sir, I—” Hawkeye started, but Roy was already rocking back against her with a groan.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he repeated, and Hawkeye squeaked. She must have been shocked, but Roy didn’t have the patience to wait for her to recover — “Move, _please_ ,” he begged, and she did.

Roy groaned again, meeting her every thrust. Fuck, he felt so used already; Hawkeye was merciless from the start, as steady and ruthless with her cock in his ass as she was with a gun in her hand, and Roy was seeing stars around the edges of his vision. Then Hawkeye’s other hand grabbed his ass, and she held him open like she had earlier, and his mouth said “ _Yes_ ” before his brain even knew what she’d done.

“Harder,” he pleaded, “please, harder,” and she fucked him harder, until every impact of her hips against his ass stung. “ _Fuck, yes, just like that,_ ” he hissed, bending one leg to prop it on the bed so he could spread just a little wider, get her just a little deeper. Fuck, he was so close; he grasped at his cock, tugging frantically, and then he felt a hand in his hair and Hawkeye tugged his head back, _hard_ , and Roy’s voice cracked so hard it split briefly in two before falling into his chest.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he groaned.

Hawkeye looked ferocious. “I want to see your face,” she demanded, “let me watch you,” and Roy couldn’t have disobeyed her to save his life.

He met her eyes; even upside-down, they were gorgeous, and so full of desperate, furious hunger that Roy felt the tension in his gut wind hotter and tighter. “Fuck, please, _fuck me, Riza, fuck me,_ ” he begged, squeezing his eyes shut, and then the tension snapped and he was coming harder than he’d thought possible, strung out between Riza’s cock and her hand in his hair and delirious with pleasure.

Eventually, he stopped shaking, and Hawkeye soothed his stinging scalp with her fingertips before easing his head down to the bed. Her hands on his hips grounded him; she slid her cock gently out of him, and Roy swallowed a whimper as his own softening cock gave a halfhearted twitch at the sensation. Then she stepped away, and he put both feet flat on the ground and stretched his arms out in front of him. He felt sore and used and radiant, like — well, like he’d just had the fuck of his life.

“Goodness, I needed that,” he said, and his throat was a little rough, but otherwise he sounded fine. He arched his back the other way, and it popped like gunfire from his tailbone to his shoulders. All his joints felt looser and easier than before. God, he really _had_ needed that. He flopped over onto his back on the bed, shoving himself further on with his heel so he didn’t slide right off, and looked up at Hawkeye.

She was looking down at where he’d just been. He followed her gaze and felt himself blush. Shit, he’d left such a mess.

“Oh, dear,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s fine. I can wash it,” Hawkeye cut him off, unbuckling her harness, and Roy cursed himself for being so stupid as to remind her of their relationship now, of all times. “Have some water,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied, obeying because his throat was dry, but also because he couldn’t tell if she was angry with him, and he didn’t want to make her mood worse, whatever it was. Hawkeye stepped out of her harness and set it down on the end table. The wet dildo stood up lewdly; Roy did his best to ignore it, but with the way his ass felt, all loose and sensitive and used, he found himself thinking about it anyways.

“I expect you’ll need at least half of a shower after that,” said Hawkeye, and Roy set the water back down.

“That would be great, thank you—” _Lieutenant_ , he almost said again, but stopped himself just in time. Fuck, why did he have to be so stupid after a good orgasm?

Hawkeye wouldn’t meet his eyes. “There are towels on the shelf in the bathroom,” she said. A few wisps of her hair were escaping their clip; her face was flushed, and her mouth looked lush and kissable. She looked... _debauched_ , was the word, just a little bit.

“Yes, of course,” Roy said, and stood up. He was a little shaky, but he set his shoulders and settled his weight on his feet, and he saw Hawkeye settle back into her military posture as well. He moved past her to leave the room. Every step drove home the budding soreness in his entire body. God, he’d be feeling this for days, he thought, and the idea sent a thrill down his spine. The entire room reeked of sex, but as he passed Hawkeye, the scent of her filled his nose. She smelled steady and familiar, but she also smelled distinctly of sex, and the combination left Roy’s mouth watering. He wanted to pull her down onto the bed and eat her out until she came, but that wasn’t part of the deal.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked, so you can come in and wash your hands,” he said, stripping off his undershirt and tossing it with his other clothes. His boxers had ended up draped over one bedpost, he noticed on his way past.

“Thank you, sir,” Hawkeye replied, and Roy left the bedroom door open behind him.

Hawkeye’s shower heated up faster than Roy’s did, and he lathered himself all over with her soap. It smelled even milder than his own did, and he found that inexplicably amusing. He rinsed the sweat and suds from his skin quickly, then reached a hand down to his ass.

He didn’t really mean to finger himself. He meant to just clean up the worst of the lube and be done, but as soon as he touched his fingertips to his slick, sensitive hole, he got curious, and besides, where was the harm?

Two fingers sank in easily, and he gasped, pressing a hand against the wall to steady himself just like he’d done earlier in his own apartment. Fuck, he was so sensitive. He shuddered, thrusting gently. There was no way he could get hard again, but he could almost have gone for a second round anyways. There was something incredibly luxurious about fingering himself after such a good, hard fuck; his ass felt like molten silk around his fingers, and so very sensitive, as though every nerve ending was frayed.

He felt the water pressure drop, and stifled a gasp. Outside of the shower, Roy heard Hawkeye washing her hands. For a brief moment, he contemplated stopping, but then he imagined her pushing the shower curtain aside and joining him, and he pressed his fingers back in, biting his lip on a sigh. He wondered if she still looked as subtly debauched as she had in the bedroom. He wondered if he’d see her like that again. He wondered if she wanted him to.

The water pressure returned, and then Roy heard Hawkeye leave the bathroom. Sighing, he pulled his fingers out of himself, wincing a little at the sensitivity, and reached for the soap again. It only took him a couple of seconds to finish cleaning up; he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. The towels were tidily folded and stacked on the shelf above the toilet, where Hawkeye had said they were. He grabbed one and dried himself briskly, then wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom.

He stopped dead in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob. Lieutenant Hawkeye lay sprawled on the clean side of the bed, wearing just her shirt, with both hands between her legs. She had her eyes shut, her head tossed against the pillow, and her back arched so that her hips were in the air, and she was grinding slightly against her hands. It looked like she had two fingers in herself, and even if they hadn’t been making such filthy wet noises, Roy would have been able to smell how wet she was. She smelled fucking delicious. His cock made a valiant effort to get hard again, but it was absolutely not happening yet, and anyway, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. As much as he wanted to replace Hawkeye’s fingers with his cock, he had no idea how to suggest such a thing in a way that wouldn’t feel weird and off-putting. She also didn’t seem to have noticed he was there, he realized, which meant if he made himself known she might not react well. He gave the door a gentle push so it would stay open, leaned against the doorjamb, and watched as Hawkeye’s fingers stilled and she cried out. God, she was beautiful.

She relaxed against the bed, shivering, and stretched her legs. Then she opened her eyes, and her gaze landed immediately on Roy.

She sat bolt upright. “Colonel Mustang,” she blurted, blushing violently red. “I—I’m sorry, I was just—”

“So you enjoyed yourself, too, then?” Roy interrupted. That flicker of hope was back in full force, warming his entire chest. Then he realized what he’d said and licked his lips. “So to speak.”

Hawkeye swallowed, holding his gaze. God, that hope in his chest was almost painful. “Yes, sir,” she said. “Very much.” 

Roy couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She’d enjoyed it. She’d enjoyed it a lot. Maybe she’d be willing to do it again. Maybe she’d let him fuck her. Maybe—

“I’m glad,” was all he said. She probably needed to wash her hands again. He stepped into the room and back against the open door to let her through, and she rose to her feet and padded past him. Her hair was even more mussed now; she looked just a bit more debauched than before. Maybe, if he was very lucky and very careful, she’d let him debauch her properly sometime.

Hawkeye headed for the bathroom, and Roy glanced over his clothes. His boxers dangled off the bedpost. He wondered...

He peeked back out of the bedroom. “Lieutenant,” he called, stopping her on her way into the bathroom.

“Yes, sir?”

It was very difficult to keep the smile mostly off his face. “My underwear is in dire need of a wash,” he said innocently. “Would it be all right with you if I left it here?”

Hawkeye blushed, eyes going wide. “Yes, sir. That’s fine.”

The smile slipped out for just a moment. “Excellent. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

She nodded, and he stepped fully into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He dressed quickly. His dirty boxers, he left folded on the foot of the bed next to the mess he’d made; everything else went back on him. He tucked his shirt in and fastened his belt before he left the room, but sat down gingerly on the couch to let the dog play with his feet while he buttoned his collar and cuffs and tied his tie. The fabric of his trousers was a lot rougher against his skin than his underwear. God, he hadn’t done this in years, he remembered, and felt a secretive little thrill.

When Hawkeye emerged from the bathroom, he rose to his feet, tightening his tie. “Lieutenant,” he said.

“Colonel,” she replied. He didn’t feel like a Colonel. He felt a man who’d just gotten fucked within an inch of his life by a gorgeous woman he adored. He felt like he could have gotten fucked like that all night, and to hell with the consequences.

“I should be off,” he said, a little awkwardly, before he could proposition her or something else equally stupid. “Early morning tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” Hawkeye agreed, glancing past him. “It’s gotten quite late.”

Roy headed for the door, and Hawkeye fell into step behind him. He leaned down to grab his shoes, and when Hawkeye reached into the closet to fetch his coat, her shirt rose up to expose her ass. Her inner thighs were wet almost to her knees, and she smelled like sex and comfort. Roy wanted to sink to his knees and bury his face between her legs until he forgot how to breathe. He stayed standing to put his shoes on, just to be safe.

When he had both shoes back on, Hawkeye offered him his coat. “Here you are,” she said. “Good night, Colonel. Drive safe.”

“Thank you,” he said as she reached past him to open the door. He nodded to her as he passed, and she nodded back. She was smiling very slightly, and her eyes were sparkling.

“Oh, and Lieutenant Hawkeye?” he said before she could shut the door.

“Yes, Colonel Mustang?” she asked.

Roy reached out a hand and grabbed her shoulder. Her skin was warm through her shirt, and the contact felt electric.

“Thank you,” he said emphatically.

She gave him possibly the filthiest look he’d ever seen on her face. “It was truly my pleasure, sir,” she murmured, and Roy held her eyes as long as he could bear it before nodding once, sharply, and turning to leave. The door shut behind him with a heavy click.

When he got outside, Roy leaned up against the brick wall and breathed deeply. For once in his life, he found himself craving a cigarette, just to give his mouth something to do. He ran his tongue over the edges of his teeth, dragged his thumb across his bottom lip. He wanted to slide his fingers into his mouth, but managed to stop himself. There were people around, after all.

 _What a night,_ he sighed to himself, then pushed off the wall and headed to his car. He was going to sleep so well tonight.

* * *

It took Roy a month to figure out how to bring it up. Hawkeye treated him the same as she always had, and didn’t mention it either. If not for the way his body ached for days afterwards, Roy would’ve started to believe it had all been a dream. He’d certainly been dreaming about it ever since.

Then, one day, she was on the other end of the phone and he was greeting her, “Elizabeth, darling, how have you been?”

“Not bad,” she replied, voice as steady and soothing as always. “Business is slow today. We’re not expecting many customers.”

Excellent. “Well, I suppose that’s bad news, but at least I get to spend more time on the phone with you!” Roy teased.

He could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I suppose so,” she said.

Roy steeled his nerves. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, actually,” he said, before he could talk himself out of it. “You remember when we went on that date last month?”

There was a terribly long pause. “Oh!” she said eventually. “You mean that time I took you for dinner?”

Roy choked, did his best to turn it into a cough. _Oh goddamn it._ He shifted in his seat as arousal went flickering up and down his spine. “I was thinking I’d like to do something like that again,” he managed, as evenly as he could, then took a deep, steadying breath. “Except maybe this time _I_ could take _you_ for dinner? I don't know if that's something you'd be interested in,” he added hurriedly. _Oh please say yes._

“That sounds wonderful,” Hawkeye purred, and Roy couldn’t stop a shudder.

“Excellent,” he managed. “I’ll pick you up tonight, then? Same time, same place? Oh, and—” he was feeling bold, now — “if I’m stopping on the way, would you prefer flowers or chocolates?”

There was another pause as Hawkeye presumably tried to decipher what he meant. “Hmm. Might as well bring both,” she teased, and Roy had to bite down on his lip. “Just to be _safe_ , you know?”

Oh god yes. “I do know,” Roy said. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight,” she promised.


End file.
